


Ilion

by wolfwithwoodenteeth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hector and Andromache, Iliad AU, Rickon is King in the North, Robb and Dany are the Paris and Helen of this universe, Robert is King in the South, Some Jon/Dany tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 13:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9823580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfwithwoodenteeth/pseuds/wolfwithwoodenteeth
Summary: Robert's Rebellion ends with Lyanna still alive. She is permitted to go back to Winterfell and raise her son there. Viserys and Daenerys don't escape to Essos, but are instead captured by Stannis' forces. Viserys is killed, but Dany, still a babe in arms, is betrothed to Robert Baratheon and set to wed him on her fourteenth nameday. Tywin is not happy about this, since it means Cersei won't become Queen and has to marry Stannis instead.Fourteen years later Ned Stark and his son and heir Robb travel South for Robert and Daenerys' wedding festivities. After a tourney two days before the wedding, Dany and Robb decide to elope. Ned isn't informed about this until it's too late and he is executed for treason by Robert.During the war that follows, most of the remaining Starks die, leaving Jon and Sansa to rule the North in Rickon's name and hold Winterfell against the might of the South. Working together, they grow closer and fall in love. Ten years into the war, they are married and have a young son named Eddard.





	

**Author's Note:**

> With 6 WIPs and 2 fics I'd like to expand, it would be a bad idea to start yet another AU, right?
> 
> BUT I couldn't get this out of my head, and when that happens, I just need to start writing. This will remain a oneshot for now.
> 
> Another Greek mythology inspired one, this time based on the Iliad, Book VI, Hector and Andromache's farewell. I included my own spin on the scene between Hector and Helen preceding it, mainly for context.
> 
> The dialogue is not my usual style, since I wanted to stay true to that of the original, but the non-dialogue lines are more colloquial, because I felt otherwise it would have been overkill.
> 
> Jon's comment about Daenerys' smile is based on Kit Marlowe's famous Dr. Faustus line ('Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships?'), because I couldn't resist ;)

Jon hurriedly made his way through the halls of the Great Keep, eager to see his wife. He was still in his armour, sword in hand, not bothering to change, knowing he'd be returning to the battlefield in less than a couple of hours. When he realized Sansa was nowhere to be found inside, he headed for the Godswood. He quickened his pace when he saw a figure under the Heart Tree, but faltered as the woman shifted her position and her hood fell off her head, revealing silvery hair instead of the red he wanted to see. 

Daenerys caught sight of him and smiled.  _Is this the smile that brought this doom upon us?_ He found himself wondering about this, not for the first time in the last ten years. Her violet eyes stood out shining and dark against the flushed translucent skin of her face, framed by silver-gold hair and pale grey furs. Jon thought she looked lovely, as always, but he could see a loneliness behind the warmth of her smile. After all this time, she must still feel like a foreigner here, and not only because everything was so strange to her. Most of the North blamed her for this war, and she was aware of it.

He returned her smile and closed the distance between them. "My lady, I would not have expected to find you here."

"It's true," she admitted, "I don't come here as often as you do and these Gods are still strange to me, but I find I've come to understand the appeal this place has to you Northerners. Do you wish to be alone to pray, my lord?"

He shook his head. "I was looking for my lady wife."

Daenerys averted her eyes. "The Lady Sansa has been avoiding my company lately, you will not find her here."

Jon sighed and shifted his weight from one foot to another. Sansa used to spend a lot of time with Daenerys, trying her best to make her feel at home, walking arm in arm with her for all the residents of Winterfell to see. She liked Daenerys and respected her, she didn't even resent her, not truly. She'd told him once: _"I understand her, I do. If I had been in her position, I probably would have done the same."_

Sansa had always blamed Robb, but he had been gone a long time. By now the war had demanded the lives of almost her entire family and that had taken its toll on her. Daenerys continued: "They call me Daenerys Stormborn. I wish that storm had taken me on the day I was born. If it had and it had blown me into the sea, I would have drowned and none of this would have come about."

Jon reached out to take her hand. "You shouldn't say such things, my lady."

She met his eyes. "I suppose not. It does not do to dwell on things that cannot be changed. This is the fate the Gods have dealt me. I do sometimes wish I'd chosen a better husband."

The corner of her mouth pulled up into a half-smile and she didn't look away for a long time. Eventually Jon did, clenching his jaw. He couldn't deny it. Robb had been reckless and impulsive and it had killed him before his time. He wondered whether Daenerys resented him for dying and leaving her here alone. When he felt her gloved thumb stroking his knuckles, he pulled his hand away. "Do you think I should have gone back to Robert when Robb died?"

Jon's shoulders relaxed somewhat and he looked at her again. Her hands were clasped together and she was tracing the inside of her wrist with her thumb. "I don't think it would have changed anything. It wouldn't have ended the war."

She offered him another smile. "I am glad you feel that way, even though you must be the most troubled of all. Will you sit with me for a while, brother?"

Though he was her nephew in truth, she never called him that, and if Sansa was her sister by marriage, Jon might also be her brother, but the epithet made him feel uncomfortable nonetheless. He shook his head again. "No, I shall not sit with you, Daenerys. You are most kind, but you won't persuade me. My men need me, so I must return to them shortly. But first I'll go to see my wife and my little boy."

As he turned around, Daenerys called out: "I think your lady wife might have gone up to the battlements to watch the fray."

***

When Jon had reached the battlements, he found a group of women there. He could see Sansa's fiery hair from a distance and he paused to watch her. She was standing tall and straight and with her face a mask of icy calm, but he could detect the distress in the set of her mouth. Next to her was Jeyne Poole, little Ned in her arms. He smiled and gazed at them for a while in silence.

Sansa turned around and caught sight of him. Her carefully crafted composure fell and she came running to him. She clasped his hand, studying his face. He held up his other hand to cup her cheek. "What are you doing here, my lady?"

"I heard you were losing the battle," she whispered, "so I had to come up and see for myself. I searched for you on the field, but I couldn't find you, my lord."

He nodded. "The battle was lost, but we shall not relent. As soon as the men are ready, I shall lead a new attack."

She shook her head, unable to hold back a single tear from rolling down her cheek, but her eyes turned hard. "Your courage will kill you, husband. Don't you have any pity for your son, or for me, your lady wife?"

She was glaring at him now, eyes narrowed and lips pressed together tightly. Jon let out a heavy breath, closing his eyes. He tried to pull her away from the other women, but she would only follow a couple of steps. "Sansa..."

Her eyes were still slits of blazing blue, but her full pink lips were trembling. "If you lose, I would be better off dead. When you die, I shall have no joy left in my life, only sorrow. King Robert killed my father for a crime he was not guilty of. Robb was slain by Jaime Lannister when they took Riverrun. And it did not end there. Bran and Arya fell by his hand as well. My lady mother was spared, only to succumb to the plague that overwhelmed Moat Cailin. You are all I have left in this world, Jon. You are father, brother, husband to me. I am begging you, my lord, stay here on the battlements to lead the defence. Don't make your son an orphan and your wife a widow."

He caressed her cheekbone with his thumb and pressed a kiss to her sweet-smelling red hair, the silky skin of her forehead and finally her lips. _I wish I could._ She took a deep breath and swallowed back her sobs. "We should not waste more lives on useless battles. We are safe inside Winterfell. The walls are weakest by the apple tree half a mile west from the Southron gate. If you station your men there, we should be able to keep them out."

She pressed herself close to him, ignoring the gore and grime on his armour, tucking her head under his chin. The other women stood by in silence, averting their eyes. He only allowed himself a few moments of holding her in his arms, before gently pushing her away. He wanted to keep her there forever and forget the world beyond the two of them, but he couldn't.

She was his strength and his weakness. She'd been strong for so long, and he knew she would endure until the very end. He could not begrudge her this moment of selfish weakness, especially since her wishes came so close to his own heart's desire, but he was the one who needed to be strong now. _Love is the death of duty._

Sansa's comments might not be unwise, but she did not know soldiers the way Jon did. He could not lock them inside these walls and expect them to wait.  _And Winter is coming._ If the war didn't end soon, they would all starve anyway. The men had to go out there and fight. And he couldn't ask that of them if he refused to do so himself.

He offered her a rueful smile. "My sweet lady, I am concerned as well, but I cannot hide from the fighting like some craven. I would be shamed and dishonoured. I know nothing save how to fight bravely in the vanguard, leading the men where they can see me to strengthen their courage."

Sansa inclined her head to avoid his eyes, tears now streaming freely down her face. "I fear that we cannot win this war," Jon sighed, "Winterfell is doomed. It pains me to think of the fate of all these people, of what may become of my lady mother and of Rickon; but none of that moves me as does the thought of your sorrow when you will be dragged away by some Southron brute. I cannot bear to think what fate you might be dealt when Winterfell falls. May I be dead and buried before I hear your cries as they drag you away."

She did not answer, only shaking her head at his words. He turned to Jeyne to smile at his son, who looked so much like him, from his dark hair to his long face to the shape of his nose and chin. _Except for his eyes, he has his mother's beautiful blue eyes._ He took a step forward and held out his arms, but Ned, frightened by the unfamiliar sight of his flashing helmet, flinched and cried out. "Hush now, little prince," Jeyne tried to soothe him.

Jon untied his helmet at once and put it down on the ground. He took his boy in his arms and kissed him. He turned around to face Sansa. "I pray to the Old Gods and the New and whatever other God may be listening, that our son may live to become a better man than his father and to make his mother proud."

WIth these words he placed the child in his wife's arms and she held him close, smiling through her tears. Jon's heart ached at the sight and he reached out to stroke her hair, saying: "Sansa, my dear wife, do not grieve for me yet. No man will take me away from you before my time, though I know even I cannot escape my fate. Take these women back to the keep and lead them in songs and prayer and other good works. Be their courage as I am to my men."

He leaned in to press his lips to her forehead and then pulled back to look her in the eyes and memorize every detail of her face. She glanced up at him through her thick eyelashes and a small smile graced her lips. He let his hand slide out of her hair and turned around with one last nod, uncertain who he was trying to convince. After bending down to pick up his helmet, he walked away with a heavy heart.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I included the forehead kiss, because I could.
> 
> And I didn't add those last lines where Andromache goes back to her house to mourn Hector, because I wanted to leave the ending more open...


End file.
